Christmas Card
by Torchwood Prof
Summary: A little Christmas ficlet - a little early - set in late 1984. Harry is unravelling, Remus has a book to write, Sirius is odd - and baby Harry thinks mum, dad, and his uncles are acting oddly. No established pairings - read what you will.


Author's Note:

The Professor: Hello, and welcome to Ambrose the Book-Wolf and the Torchwood Professor's story, "Christmas Card" - which is our Christmas one-shot. This is really just an excuse to do some Remarry fluff, angst, some Time Travel - most of our favourite stuff, really. It's rather self-indulgent, so bear that in mind while reading.

Ambrose: Quite, quite true - still, don't let it get in the way of enjoying the story. And now - for the disclaimer. Ahem . . . Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright. Right, now that's done - Professor?

The Professor: Yes, now that's done, we'll just tell you - this story takes place on the twenty fourth of December, 1984, at around seven o'clock, and just bear with us on the setting - it's extremely Christmas-y, and if you don't like that sort of thing, just ignore it.

Ambrose: And you won't have to worry about pairings - well, not unless you WANT to read into what we write. OK - and on we go.

(Chapter Start)

24th December, Christmas 1984 - 6:04:31 P.M

----

It never snowed in London anymore - not at Christmas, anyway. How long had it been since the children of London got to step out onto the white fluff - Hermione had once called it God's dandruff (which had Ron staring at her in mortification) - and danced around like complete idiots? _Heh - not since the bloody nineteenth century, that's when - Dickens had it easy._

There was a crunch of fresh snow as the man in the odd clothes ambled down the sparse lane of Godric's Hollow - he seemed to take immense joy in the way his shoes sunk into the white and made that wonderful noise, and his entire frame was trembling with excitement. A grin lit up his pale white face, and his emerald eyes shimmered in the light of a street lamp as he twirled in the snow.

Harry didn't think he'd ever been quite so happy as he was now - there was just complete freedom in front of him, a feeling of - he didn't even know how to describe how he felt now that the weight that had hobbled him since his first year was so completely gone. _Ding-dong, the Dork is dead, which old Dork, the wicked Dork . . ._

He'd been dead for what seemed like seconds - and for Harry it was - but in reality, Voldemort had been dead for more than five years. His leech-like existence had been eradicated, his essence destroyed - Harry could come up with like-statements all his life, and he would've done - he would've shouted it to the moon (howl like a Moony!) - if he weren't unravelling. And not metaphorically.

He'd cheated, he supposed you'd call it - skipped forward half a decade, and that's what had done it. He was already here - his four year old self was a happy, bouncy boy, and he was priority - and since Harry couldn't be in two places at once, he was the one to go. _But that's good_, he thought, - _day I get everything - might as well stop._

He didn't mind - hell, he loved it. Probably explained why he was feeling so euphoric - so _happy_ - his worries were lifting far, far away, and he was going with them. One-way ticket, punched and all. Not like them, he reflected as he reached the house at the farthest end of the drive - not like the proper Potters. That's what this was - the proper Potter's world, and he'd worked _so_ hard. And for once in his life - it had paid off. They had everything to look forward to - first day of school, first date, first kiss, first love, first wedding, first everything. And this was Harry - Other Harry's - last everything.

He stayed at the gate - no need to alarm them - and rested his hand on the worn wood, while the other clutched the precious object in his hand - he looked, nothing more, nothing less - and it was _right_, he realised. So _right_.

There was Lily - all red hair and knowing - grinning at the faces Sirius - God, _Sirius _- was making at little Harry, who was giggling and smiling and balancing on James' lap, who was smacking Remus upside the head for imitating his dopey expression - and here was Other Harry, looking in and he didn't even wish he was part of the scene he was so satisfied. I never had a life like that, he thought, and look how I turned out. The mad grin on his face only got wider. How much better am I going to be with _all_ that love?

Patting the wood fondly, as if it were Padfoot's shaggy head from so many years ago, Other Harry veered to the left into the steadily denser forest clearing, and, unbidden, his lifetime unfolded before him as he strode into the rough green.

_" . . . I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly . . . "  
" . . . Do they? What, they don't move at all? Weird! . . ."  
" . . . Yeah, he's nipping off to the Chamber of Secrets to have a cup of tea with his fanged servant . . ."  
" . . . Once my name's cleared ... if you wanted a ... a different home . . ."  
" . . . No, I was born in July . . ."  
" . . . but the general picture - from us, rather than a garbled version from ... others . . ."  
" . . . You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside. She'll wonder where you'd gone . . ."  
" . . . Oh yes, they're arguing. But it won't be that long and I'll be gone . . ."  
" . . . Harry Potter. The boy who lived. . . ."  
" . . . Uh, Harry Trimble. The - exchange? . . ."  
" . . . See you soon. . ."_

He didn't move to wipe away the tears that had run down his face, nor to steady his breathing - he simply stared forward as light came toward him, light that couldn't be true, light that wasn't, light that could - light.

And so, Harry James Potter ceased to exist at precisely 6:13 P.M. on the 24th of December, 1984, having carved out the soul of the world and recast it - at the cost of nought.

---

"Remus, where are you going?! It's bloody freezing out there!" Remus only smiled at the expressions of his friends and family - and more - as he grabbed a coat, slung it around his shoulders and opened the door to the main hallway. "Just a walk - don't worry about it, alright? Be back before you know it." He blew a mock-kiss with a extravagant flourish of his hand, and grinned as he opened the front door."

Sirius turned to the Potter's, with an odd expression on his face as he muttered to Harry, "Mad, he is - absolutely bonkers . . ." James grinned at him from the loveseat that smelt of him and Lily, and stage-whispered, "Turning into quite the mother hen, aren't you Sirius?" Sirius' expression only became odder as he gazed into space - before yelping as Harry, with all the strength and determination of a four year old, grabbed his goatee and tugged, regaining Uncle Padfoot's attention. He had an earnest expression on his chubby face, and he smiled.

"Don't worry, Uncle Pad - I think you and Uncle Moony are both equally bonkers."  
The Potter house exploded in laughter.

---

Remus still had a grin on his face as he carefully closed the front door behind him, and he shivered slightly as he adjusted to the fresh cold air that greeted him. He didn't know why he was out here - he certainly didn't want a walk, he knew that - but something had drawn him out here. He glanced around - perhaps things would be kind, he'd spot whatever it was and go back inside? He huffed.

No such luck. He began walking, not paying any attention to where his feet were taking him, some ancient instinct guiding him - and his nose tingled with an extremely familiar scent. _And so it should be_, he reflected with a self-derogatory shake of his head. _You smelt it only five minutes ago - it's Harry_. He vaguely remembered Harry playing out here, didn't he? Of course he did.

He thought of the odd glances Sirius had been giving him these past few days - he didn't quite know what to make of them. Padfoot had been moving steadily through any woman who'd have him in the years since Hogwarts - maybe he expected Remus to have a girlfriend by now? Lupin snorted - not bloody likely. And he wouldn't let Lily set him up on another blind date - he remembered how the last one tuned out, and shuddered.

Realising he was now sitting on one of James' favourite logs in the area which had been clearly marked as Padfoot's territory (Remus wrinkled his nose, and resisted the urge to stake his own claim - bloody hell, what was with him tonight?) Remus clapped his knees and gazed uninterestedly around the clearing - maybe he _had_ needed a walk? The air smelled so much sweeter than it had inside, maybe it was just the stuffiness?

Breathing in the scent that seemed to be all over the clearing, Remus found his gaze caught by something that stood out against the white of the snow. Knowing that he was doing it out of pure boredom, Remus leant over and brushed aside some of the snow that had piled around the object, before pulling it free. He wiped it clean, and inspected it.

It seemed to be some kind of photograph, and his eyes were caught by a faint chicken scratch that looked as if it had been scrawled a million years ago upon the white back of the photo. He peered at the seemingly emerald ink, and made out what it said.

_**'Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year - from H.**_

_**PS - Get on with the book. It'll be a hit.'**_

Remus didn't know what to make of it - perhaps someone had dropped it here? It certainly wasn't in any handwriting he recognised - well, it looked a _bit _like Lily's, but - he shook his head, and turned the photo over. Even as he did, his eyes were caught.

The lighting was dark, he reasoned - maybe it's just the way the scene was lit? Ah, couldn't be - but for just a moment, he had sworn it had been a picture of him. Him and Sirius and - someone else. He'd been close to this - other - person, much closer than he usually was to people he didn't know - well, it didn't matter, did it? It wasn't him, it wasn't Sirius - just a trick of the light. But - he'd sworn . . .

Shaking his head, Remus crammed the photo into his pocket, already forgetting about it - a new idea had formed in his mind, one that had taken him by storm. Maybe he should do some writing? He'd always liked fiction - even tried to write his own little version of _Red Riding Hoo_d when he was six (the wolf was killed in that one, he recalled - violently) - but something had given him a new passion for the world of imagination and ink. That something had already given him an idea - maybe a romance?

Not one of those bloody house-witch diaries, hell no. A proper one - with real people, like the ones around him, and with real words, not little pithy low-budget happy ending tales. No, he decided - it should be full of anger, and confusion, and irritation, and boredom - and fire and ice, like life really was. Not some glamorised falsity. While he was at it, why not go whole hog? He thought as he sat on the warming log, enraptured in the idea.

Maybe he could do something - controversial? But what was controversial these days? No, not controversial - that was the wrong word, this wasn't a book meant to offend, it was a story, meant to be told to others - new. New, that was the word. Maybe - thirty seven year old professor, down on his luck - runs into his personal Adonis at a bar - no, at work? His own Lolita - but not cheap, not disturbed - true. Falls in love? Loses his love? Doesn't regret a moment of it? Remus' eyes sparkled, and he grinned.

_Now that sounds like something worth reading._

(The End)

Ambrose: Doesn't it just? OK, that's the end of this particular little one-shot. Make sure to leave a review, we want to know if we should go anywhere with this sort of thing - not this specifically, but this direction? And what did you think? Sappy? Overplayed? Just click that button, and all will be forgiven.

The Professor: Don't be a stranger. OK, guys - Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, in case we don't update until after the holidays. See ya!


End file.
